The 36th Annual Hunger Games
by Foxface Nightlock
Summary: Leah and Ethon have been reaped into the 36th Hunger Games, and must face off against 22 other tributes in a fight to the death. Will Ethon manage to become the Capitol favourite, using words and actions to gain sponsors? And how will Leah handle trying to spark up a romance with her district partner? Remember, there can only be one victor.
1. The calm before the storm

Hello everyone! This is my first fanfiction, and I would really appreciate your support! Any reviews and ratings will be taken in and I will try to improve my writing as much as possible, and upload chapters frequently. Have any ideas for characters competing in the games? Send me their profiles and I will add them in for you, on top of giving you a shout out! All districts apart from 12 are still available, but be quick, they won't stick around for long. Thank you

Leah Michelson, 16

My eyes snap open as I feel a cold trickle of water run down my back. I groan, and hear a giggle as someone scampers away. "I'll get you next time," I mumble, to no one in particular. Climbing out of bed, I shrug on my jacket and step into my canvas pants, fixing my brown hair back into a pony tail. Pulling on my boots, I walk sleepily into the kitchen and sit down at the table, where a plate of stale bread and water has been set. April, my twelve year old sister, sits down at the table opposite me, with a cheeky grin still plastered to her face. "Good morning!" she giggles. I don't understand how she could be so happy on the day of the Reaping. After all, it's the first year that she is eligible and I remember being freaked out when I was that age, exactly four years ago.

As if she read my mind, April screws up her face, avoiding looking in my eyes. "Mum told me she would be back in an hour, to get us ready for the Reaping. She's down in the bakery helping Dad get all the work done before midday." I had guessed so much. I live in a family of bakers. Our bread is well known for its quality, and we have a good business here in district 12, although it means that we don't see Mum and Dad very much during the day. April and I try to help out with baking the bread, and I have to admit, slugging around sacks of flour and kneading dough for hours has helped me build up my strength.

This year will be the 36th annual Hunger Games, and my name has been entered 4 times. Since we have plenty of stale, old bread that is not suitable to sell, it is unnecessary for my sister and I to take tesserae. Others are not so lucky, some having entered their name over 40 times. The odds are not in their favour.

Ethon May, 17

I walk into our small, shabby house, taking care to take my shoes off at the front door. In my hand I hold basket containing six measly eggs, making sure that they don't break. As I set the basket on the kitchen table, I am greeted by my eight year old brother. "Tip me upside down!" he demands, and giggles as I pick him up by his feet and dangle him above the floor. As I put him down gently, I notice my mother watching us with a worried look on her face. "Can you talk to Abbey," she asks, "she's panicking again, just like last year." Of course, this is Abbey's second reaping and she has been worrying for several weeks now.

I walk into the sleeping room and embrace my sister. "Abbey, you are as safe as possible without having taken any tesserae. There are thousands of names in that pot, there is no need to worry." My assurances do little to persuade her that there was almost no chance that her name would be chosen, but as I go in for another try, I am interrupted by my two eleven year old twin brothers. "Mum is treating us to eggs because of the reaping, and she said to tell you to come eat before they go cold," they chirp. I give Abbey a final hug, before following the boys into the other room.

I am seventeen, and have taken out forty-two tesserae for my family of seven. We are poor, as my father died of a disease when I was thirteen, and I have had to support the family ever since. I do what I can, trading my wood carvings and the cheese Abbey makes from our goat's milk in the Hob, but we have to take out tesserae to get through the year without starving. The odds are not in my favour this year.


	2. May the odds be ever in your favour

**Here is the second chapter, I hope you enjoy reading it! If you would like to read more, be sure to favourite/follow, and any reviews would be greatly appreciated. I will do my best to get the next chapter out by tomorrow. If you have any ideas for characters in the story, especially tributes, now is the last chance to leave a profile in the review, I will be sure to give you a shout out. Enjoy reading!**

Leah Michelson, 16

The time has come to leave for the Reaping. I am dressed in a simple, grey dress, the one only worn on special occasions. As my mother finishes braiding my hair in a complicated and beautiful pattern, I remember last year's tributes, and their struggle to survive the burning desert without food and water. It was brutal. I can only hope that this year's arena will be easier to survive in. I can climb, and am good with the slingshot and throwing knives after being taught by my father in our small garden, away from prying eyes. It's technically illegal to train for the games, but district 1, 2 and 4 do it, and my father saw no harm in giving me a chance of survival.

I step outside the door holding my sister's sweaty hands, and my parents follow behind me. The square is busy, and we wait in long queues to sign in. I hear my sisters' sharp breath as her finger is pricked to reveal blood. I feel sorry for her, and I wince as the same process is done to me. I give my sister a final hug, before walking over to the roped off area designated for 16 year olds. I don't know many girls here, and feel awkward standing alone. I don't have to suffer for long though, as our escort, Swann Silver, walks onto the stage. Her outfit is themed as a bee, with a ridiculous black and yellow high necked dress and huge yellow pumps disguising her small height.

"Well, well, well," she says in her high pitched capitol accent, "it's time to announce District 12's tributes for the 36th annual Hunger Games! May the odds be _ever _in your favour!"

She walks over to the glass ball with the girl's names in it. She reaches in, digging in deep, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath, and you can hear a pin drop. Swann Silver walks back to the middle of the podium, smooths out the paper and reads out the name in a clear voice.

Ethon May, 17

"Leah Michelson! Where are you Leah? Come up, come up, we want to see your face!"

That name sounds familiar. As I see the tall, bewildered looking girl walk slowly up towards the platform, I feel sorry for her. I notice another, younger girl scream behind me. She must be Leah's sister, she isn't much younger than Abbey. As Leah stumbles up the stairs onto the podium, I see that she is trying to hold back tears. That's when I remember where I recognise from.

It was the morning before the twins' birthday, autumn three years ago. I had saved money for a month by selling cheese and apples that I had collected from the other side of the fence. I had found a gap in the chain and realised that it was actually quite easy to reach the apple trees on edge of the forest, although I never dared to venture deeper. I had visited the Hob, hoping to find something worthwhile to trade, but I could find nothing that would interest the boys. Walking around town, I smelt the delicious whiff of baking bread on the other side of the square. It was getting dark as I entered the bakery, and I was running out of time. Leah was working at the counter, and I remember asking her the price of the cake in the display.

"That cake will cost around 36," she told me, and I sighed as I told her that I only had 25. She asked me what the occasion was, and I explained that I had saved up to buy my twin brother's a birthday present for tomorrow, but that I had run out of time.

"I have a little sister, and I know what if feels like to want to make your siblings happy. I'll let you have the cake for 25, as long as you don't tell my parents," she told me. I will never forget the smile on my brother's faces as they opened the box containing the cake. And now Leah has been reaped, and will almost certainly die in this years Hunger Games, another pointless waste of life.

I am still deep in thought as Swann walks over to the glass ball containing the boys' names. Her dainty hands swirl around in the sea of paper, and she selects one unlucky tribute. As the name is read out, I look around, expecting to see some unlucky victim step forward and take their place on the stage. But then the ugly truth sinks in, as the people around me step aside and I realise that all eyes are on me. The name that was called was Ethon May.

Leah Michelson, 16 

A tall, dark haired boy stands alone in 17 year old section. He looks flustered, but is quick to hide his emotions as he makes his way towards the podium. He is handsome, with olive skin and brown eyes, and I feel myself dreading the fact that we are going to be thrown into the arena together. There is no doubt that he will try to gain the favour of the capitol. I see an older lady burst out in tears, hugging her five young children around her. That must be Ethon's family. I try to imagine what they will be thinking tonight, when they have closed the shutters to their house and have started to mourn the loss of their brother and son. They will be praying for his survival, which means that they will be praying for my death. A shiver runs down my spine, and I realise that I have to fight hard and come out on top as this years' victor.

Swann leads us into the Justice Building to say our final goodbyes. I am conducted to a room. It is the richest room I've ever seen, with thick carpet and a velvet couch and chairs. I run my fingers through the velvet repeatedly, determined to keep my emotions in line, but can't stop a sob escaping as the door bursts open and I gather April into my arms.

"You have to win," she sobs, "no matter what, promise me that will you try your best to come home."

I kiss her on the forehead, and wipe the tears from her eyes away with my thumb.

"I promise that I will do my very best," I say, keeping my tears in check.

My mother and father walk over and embrace me, and I hear my dad choke up. I wish I could stay in their arms for ever, warm and comfortable and above all, safe. I start to tell my parents that April is not to take any tesserae, that the money from the bakery would support three people without a problem. But my mother interrupts me, assuring me that they would be fine and that April would be well looked after.

"Remember all that your father has taught you and focus on your own survival," my mothers' voice is muffled as she talks into my hair, "we will miss you, Leah darling."

That's when the peacekeeper walks into the room, signalling the end of our goodbye. I start to panic, and cry out for my family as I am separated from that. Then the door slams and it's all over. I quickly wipe the tears out of my eyes, and prepare myself for what is to come. I can't have puffy eyes since there will be more cameras at the train station. Crying is not an option. I must stay strong.


End file.
